Tuesday, March 31, 2009
The article is interesting, and the author does a great job of summarizing a fascinating and complicated subject in a fairly short piece of writing. The major movements in women and sex throughout history are cataloged, each further described with quotes from renowned authors and philosophers who have taken on the subject. The concept of one era considering the reproductive organs as sacred and mystical while another deems it the cause of women's "hysteria" is proof of this pendulum theory and how religion and society have radically transformed people's thoughts. Currently we are at the top of the upswing, and tits and ass abound, so according to the theory we should be heading into a darker, more conservative sexual age. Does this mean we may be spared seeing Hannah Montana's spread in Playboy in the near future? Somehow, unfortunately, I think not.
Go check out the article, and while you are there, join some of the threads in the forums. We've got some great discussions going that you will want to be a part of. Remember, SEXIS is the hub for all your sex tips and sex guides. A little knowledge goes a long way...
Monday, March 30, 2009
Today is the day. My lovely, gorgeous, sexy, funny, and intelligent friend Jen from Steenky Bee is guest posting today for He Blogs, She Blogs. Which means that basically I have to go sit in the corner and suck my thumb while rocking back and forth in despair at how much more awesome she is than I am and how humbled I am to have HER words appearing on MY blog. In the immortal words of Wayne and Garth, "I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy..."
And if having Steenky Bee isn't cool enough for you, Captain Dumbass has Christopher from Cajoh taking over on his site today to give you the "he" part of the equation in He Blogs, She Blogs. So when you finish here today, head over there to Us and Them, unless you've already been there and read Christopher's awesomeness.
The one thing I ask of you is please, PLEASE, still continue to come back and read when the reigns are passed back to me. I know I am no Steenky Bee, but I try really hard. And I do it all for you. That's worth something right?
The Captain and I picked some awesome questions from The Stiletto Mom, Marinka, Blogging Mama Andrea, and Natasha from Exile Street. Here are the questions and Steenky Bee's insights, for your reading pleasure:
The Stiletto Mom said…
What is the biggest fight you had over the dumbest thing EVER? (it's always the stupid fights that get big)
Oh Stiletto Mom, my dearest friend, a few things come to mind with this one. There’s the time Jeremy (my husband, and never-ending fodder for Steenky Bee) set our garage on fire. Or there’s the time I accidentally shaved his head just hours before his brother’s wedding. But I would have to say, the fight that will never, EVER end (are you reading this, honey?) has to be way back in 2002 when the two of us were lying in bed together, just about to drift off to sleep. I lovingly turned to him, gently caressed his cheek and purred into his ear, “Who do you think is funnier, you or me?”
Jeremy furrowed his brow, took a deep breath and then thoughtfully announced, “I think I am the funny one in our relationship.”
Well, folks, I was not taking this news flash from him lying down. I immediately jumped out of bed, flipped the lights on and stood there in front of him on the bed and demanded he explain himself.
Of course, Jeremy practically burned a hole in our bed sheets trying to back peddle faster than I’ve ever seen anyone attempt to this day. He managed to stammer out “No, no, no! What I meant was, YOU, my lovely and ever-so-hot wife, are funnier in a crowd, while I’m only reasonably amusing one on one.”
I then proceeded to jump on the bed until I bounced him out and onto the floor. Then I screamed, “Who’s funnier now, bitch?”
Actually, I didn’t get the chance to yell that last line at him. I only managed to get out “Who’s funnier…” before the bouncing moves on our hand-me-down mattress, BOOM! our bed frame collapsed.
So, who’s funnier? My husband and I argue over that small detail daily. You should also know that I broke our bed about three years later when Jeremy tried to tell me he thought he had better legs than me.
Here is my question--in terms of movies, do you fake it? Do you pretend that you want to see Fried Green Harry Met Sally While You Were Sleeping with your girlfriend/wife/escort? Or do you announce that it's torture for you and that she really owes you? And Petra, do you expect your husband to put up with chick flicks? Or do you go see them with your friends and leave him alone?
Whoa. That was a mouthful, wasn’t it? (That’s what she said.) Okay, Marinka, the blogger with the most beautiful avatar image ever (seriously, go check it out), I believe in brutal honesty about tastes in films…after the first ten dates. Before that point? The guy better pretend he wants to take me to see Hotel For Dogs or Twilight (for the third time, but who's counting?). But once we’ve kissed, then the guy is free to go ahead and watch all the Die Harder With Extreme Prejudice films you want.
As an aside, you should know, just in case you’re ever traveling through my home state, Utah: You can’t legally touch lips until after the tenth date. If you’re still dating by the fifteenth date, then according to the state laws, you are legally married for all time and eternity. Look it up, folks. If you don't believe me, then I'll be happy to send the missionaries over to your house.
Blogging Mama Andrea said...
When your visiting you or your spouses family for a week and your spouse asks you if you wanna 'get it on' cause everyone's sleeping, what would YOU say?
Well, Andrea, may I call you Andrea? Andrea, my in-laws only live 40 minutes from my house and I can’t think of a circumstance where we would be staying a week at their house, unless, of course, it was the apocalypse or something. They have the best stockpile of food storage ever, plus they live in a mountainous area, so I could see myself just using their house as a home base until we could built an inpenatrable underground fortress to wait out all the looting and lawlessness that's bound to accompany the end of the world.
I don’t know about you, but when my husband says to me, “Wanna get it on” it can mean only two things. He either wants to Greco-Roman wrestle or have some sort of a dance off. Is that what you were referring to, Andrea? Because if not, then you're going to be really disappointed in my answer. You see, in the Steenky household, a dance off or a wrestling match is a perfectly acceptable means to settle almost any dispute. The only exception, of course, is the age-old arguement of who is funnier. For that, of course, we jump on the bed until it breaks and then hold that dissagreement over the husband's head for eight years.
So, "getting in on" at my in-laws house? Would I do it? Absolutely. Have I done it? Yep. Just a few weeks ago while at dinner at the in-laws, Jeremy and I had a small disagreement about the phrase "flesh this out". For whatever reason, he thought the way to say that phrase was, "flush this out." We debated this most important point in front of twelve other people while as our lasagne got cold until we finally came to our senses and decided to "get in on" in the form of a dance off. In front of the entire family.
To make a long, and quite strange story short, Jeremy was the victor. This probably does not come as a big surprise to those of you who know of my dancing handicap. Jeremy pulled out an awesome dance sequence that included the Running-Man, the Worm and a new move he created especially for this contest that he called the "Oh Yeah? Flush This, Jen!" I have to say, the Oh Yeah? Flush This, Jen looks an awful lot like someone just jogging in place while flipping the bird, but Jeremy swears it's a highly technical dance move. I might believe him.
Natasha from Exile on Mom Street said...
So how do you deal when the much-adored sibling is a complete asshat?
First, please allow me to tell you that you have quickly become one of my favorite people for simply using one of my favorite words in your question. Asshat. Does it really get better than that? I don't think so.
Okay, Natasha, this question is both easy and yet so complex for me. You see, I have no siblings. It's true, I am one of those only children so my parents have no yardstick to measure me against anyone else. I think for the most part, my parents are relatively happy with how I’ve turned out. I’m financially independent, I earned a college degree, I’ve given them two grandchildren and I’ve never had to be bailed out of jail. What they overlook is that I tend to have liberal views, I’m not the best housekeeper and I’ve been arrested. To be fair, they overlook the whole arrested thing mainly because they don’t know a thing about it.
So, Natasha, you’ve got a brother or sister that’s a royal asshat, huh? Well, I'm not sure if it's wise to take advice from an only child on how to expose your asshat sibling for what they are, but here goes:
1. Take out an ad in your parent's local newspaper, half-page would do, and list all the asshattery your sibling has been up to. Don't be afraid to dig deep, you know, go back a few years. People respond powerfully to stories of one sibling not sharing with another sibling when they were children. If anything, this just establishes a pattern of poor behavior on the part of your sibling.
2. Fake a haunting at their house. Create the illusion of some random ghost villain and torment them until they eventually give in and admit that they are, indeed a jerk. (If you're not exactly sure how to go about this, just watch any episode of Scooby-Doo.) Disclaimer: your plan will most likely go more smoothly if you own glow-in-the-dark paint, own an abandoned castle or if you're a crooked real estate developer. Honestly, don't all Scooby-Doo episodes revolve around land developers?
3. Talk to your sibling. Tell them how you feel. If they argue with you, then would you consider challenging them to a wrestling match? No? Okay, then, dance off it is!
I am sure everyone will agree that Steenky Bee's answers were sufficiently superb. And if you don't, then I don't want your kind hanging around my blog anyway, so go bother Dooce or something.
Next week we will be back to our regularly scheduled program with me and the Captain "flushing it all out" on THURSDAY (got that Moe?). And we also need some more super cool questions to put your thinking caps on (you know, the one with the two beers and the straws?) and leave us some questions in the comments section so you too can be featured in an HBSB post in the near future. Do it for me, for the Captain, for Steenky Bee, for Christopher, hell, do it for the damn linky love you get out of it, I don't care. Just don't let HBSB die a slow, painful death because we have no more questions. That would blow.
An update for those of you sweet and supportive readers who have been following my progress with the About.com job--I will be moving on to Round 2 (the final round) this week and hopefully will rock their worlds with my page layout prowess. I have no idea how long this round lasts or when I will find out if I got the job, but I will keep you posted. Thank you SO much for all the kind words of support, prayers and finger crossing. Keep it up, would ya??
And stay tuned this week for another SEXIS article and my next EdenFantasys.com product review AND giveaway. Believe me, you don't want to miss this one. This item is so awesome on so many different levels and it comes complete with a priceless story of the first time we (my husband and I, not me and the Captain) used it. Don't worry, nothing too graphic, just hilarious. As hilarious as Steenky Bee? Probably not. But close. With more vibratory goodness.
And everyone loves some vibratory goodness.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Today I can finally breathe a big sigh of relief, for the hardest part of the audition process for the About.com job is over. I sent in my last two pieces last night to the editor and now I should find out by tomorrow if I make it to the next round. In the next round, we learn how to upload our material to the website, so I am not really worried about that part. Although I am no techie geek, I know my way around a computer and even know a teensy weensie bit of html, so I think this part will pale in comparision to the pure terrifying stress of the first writerly part. Everybody cross your fingers, pray to your gods or deities and/or say some novenas for my poor little soul. I want this job so bad I can taste it. And it tastes like a really great bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.
In the good news department, I have lost seven pounds--yippee!!! I have been working my ass off on the Wii Fit, as well as eating well (low calorie, low carb, low sugar--BORING) and not drinking during the week (save me) and it seems to be paying off. I have also gone back on my PCOS medication, which makes me nauseous pretty much 24/7 so that helps with the whole "not eating" thing. But it sucks ass feeling like you are going to puke all the time. I haven't felt this way since I was pregnant with my daughter, and at least back then it was all for a good cause. Although I guess it's worth it if I lose these 33 pounds that I have left to lose. Who needs to feel good as long as you look smokin' hot in a bathing suit, right ladies?
So don't forget to come back Monday for the He Blogs, She Blogs guest posters. And please, say a little prayer for me?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Celebrate Express is an awesome site to get your party supplies from; they have a great selection and reasonable prices. I am really glad I found them so I wouldn't have to go get raped by I-Party or another comparable party store where they charge you $5 per plate and $30 for a bunch of balloons. In these tough financial times, I am grateful that I can still give my little princess the party she deserves.
Now it's just too bad that most of her friends are boys...sorry little guys!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Do any of you remember my post from WAY back about Jillian Michaels when nobody really read my blog and my posts really sucked and it was really embarrassing? No? Well good. But my point is that I wrote about Jillian Michaels being the devil, and I still stand by that statement because yesterday she proved it by totally kicking my ass on the Wii Fit all sneaky-like so I didn't even realize that she was kicking my ass and today I can barely move and my ass hurts. And I didn't even have any fun to result in the ass-ache. That little bitch created a game called Jillian Michaels Fitness Ultimatum and as you are doing it, you're like "eh, this is kinda lame, and it's not that hard," but then you start sweating and you're like "well, at least I am burning calories. I just wish I didn't have to listen to that skinny hag's voice through the whole thing." and then the next day you wake up and feel 80 years old. Yeah seriously. I have been working out almost EVERY DAY for the past month and have not been this sore. I swear she puts some subliminal messages in the game that convince your muscles to rebel and refuse to participate in movement anymore. She's just that much of a C U Next Tuesday.
I have to admit that the reason my arms are sore is because I have been having my bell rung by my husband who is obsessed with Wii baseball and is now an expert while I can hardly get on base and it's really bad for that self-esteem of mine. So I'm taking my ball and going home. I don't care if it makes me a bad loser.
So in addition to using the Wii Fit and playing baseball, I have been working like a MANIAC, doing my regular job and writing all these pieces for the About.com job that I am competing for, so I haven't been able to visit blogs and comment half as much as I want to or should. So I apologize and promise everyone that if I get this job, it is only going to get worse, so I guess I need to think of something to make it all up to you. I'll have to think of something real good to bribe all of you to keep coming back and reading, even if I don't reciprocate as much as usual. Any ideas? I'm open to anything other than money and blow jobs. I'm broke as a joke and my TMJ has really been acting up.
The good news is that I found out I am only competing against TWO other people for the job. So that seriously ups my odds of getting it since I was having nightmares that I was competing against, like, 10 other much more competent and experienced writers and they just put me in to meet their quota of Greek people or something. Let's hope the other two people get all wrapped in a cult and drop out or have complications from carpal tunnel surgery and can't type anymore. Then I'm definitely in.
So I am off to do the 53 things that are cluttering up my to-do list now. Please pray for me that I don't lose my mind being stuck in this house with the children and all this work to do, and I promise to come visit your blog soon and leave a witty, thoughtful comment. Well, I'll leave a comment, I can't promise it will be witty or thoughtful. But it's the thought that counts, right?
Go see Keely and check out all the random thoughts this week and I'll catch you on the flip side. Whatever that means.
Monday, March 23, 2009
First of all, one of the first things she points out is how hard it is for real women nowadays to feel good about themselves when they are bombarded with visuals of so-called "perfect" women in magazines, on television or in stores. She even points out how shopping for clothing is a verifiable challenge on our insecurity when sizes from shop to shop and style or brand vary so widely for women, as opposed to men's styles, which are pretty consistent across the board. Yes, I have walked into a store and walked right out after finding out that in order to fit into something, I would have to buy a size 25, and that just ain't cool. I would rather not buy anything at all. This myriad of neuroses about our body image not only wreak havoc on our daily lives, but also show up, most undesirably I may add, in the bedroom.
The author goes on to explain that people with low self-esteem and poor body image have much less fulfilling sex than those that feel great in their own skin. I can attest to this. When I feel sexy and I am not thinking about the fat around my midsection or whether my ass is jiggling too much, the love sessions are tremendously improved over those times when I just don't feel good about myself and am self-conscious of every roll and fold. And how in the world are you supposed to have an orgasm if you are concerned with not looking good instead of being "in the moment." Yup, not gonna happen.
Go read the article to find out the suggestions the author gives for improving your self-esteem and giving yourself a boost when you aren't feeling up to par. She offers some great insight on feeling more secure in your relationship and your sex life, which might just make the extra difference on whether your night is a raging sucess or a total waste of time and lube. As a parent, like most of you, I know we don't have a whole lot of opportunities to let loose with each other, so why waste that time worrying about how you look or whether your partner thinks you are sexy. Here's a tip: HE DOES THINK YOU ARE SEXY. He wouldn't be having sex with you if he didn't. So let go of those insecurities and let your hair down. You'll thank me for it later.
Go check out SEXIS at EdenFantasys.com for more sex tips, sex guides and sex news. And join the forums and get in on the discussion!
Friday, March 20, 2009
Even when it comes to things that I know about myself, that I am sure of, I still have days where I wander around with thoughts that I am just not good enough. That I am a fraud, an imposter of sorts, one that would be found out at any moment and have their whole world come crashing down. I'm not really intelligent, not the way I want to be. I suck as a mother, lacking patience and creativity. I can't actually write, not in a way that surpasses mediocrity and stands out among other writers. And that is what brings me to this post today. I am severely doubting my ability to have a career in writing and it is totally fucking with my mojo.
As some of you may know, I was accepted into a training program for a writing job in which I am competing for one solitary position as a regular writer for About.com. The position entails having my very own page on About.com on "Baby's First Year," as well as a blog pertaining to the same topic. I am competing with who knows how many other writers for this opportunity, and I want it. No, I don't just want it. I NEED it. I need it to finally give me a flicker of hope that this can happen. That maybe, just maybe, I can make it in this highly competitive field of writing and do something I love while also helping to support my family. And I need it to finally be able to give my family the financial freedom we have always wanted, because they deserve it. Nothing would make me feel better than knowing that I am actually supporting my family and doing something to make them proud. I have been freelance writing for a couple of years now, and an editor for about seven, but the market is competitive and the pay is terrible, and sometimes I feel like I am walking against the wind, making small steps forward, only to be blown back again. In order to keep walking and not give up, exhausted and spent, I need to know that I am working so hard for so little for a reason. That it is a means to an end. The end being a real career, allowing me to thrive instead of just survive.
I sent in my first training piece two days ago. I wrote it, and re-wrote it, hated it, re-wrote it, and then let it sit on my laptop for about three hours while I went back and stared at it for minutes at a time, trying to decide if it was good enough to send. Images of the editor reading it and shaking his head, wondering why he chose me in the first place filled my head and my stomach churned with nerves and anxiety. The fear of letting him down, of proving myself unworthy scared the shit out of me, made me insecure, made my eyes swim with tears of frustration. I knew I just had to send it and leave it in the hands of the universe, but the thought that there was more I could do to make it better, to prove to the editor that I was the perfect one for the job, left me weary of letting it go.
Attach. Send. Done. Soon it would arrive in his inbox and that was that. It was out of my hands.
Now I just had to write five more pieces and go through the whole process all over again.
Lord help me.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Well, now that the guilt-tripping is taken care of, let's move on to what the Captain and I will be waxing on this week. You'll have to forgive me because I am pretty distracted at the moment, so my answers may not be as witty and insightful as usual. Got a lot going on, if you know what I mean. I won't bore you with the details but part of the distraction is due to a new job I am competing for, and if I get it, let's just say that it will be ABOUT time that someone paid me to actually write about something that matters to me. But, unfortunately, I might have to cut back somewhat on my blogging, which makes me feel like I might have a panic attack. But it is a fantastic opportunity and will offer my family some much-needed financial stability, so it's a necessary evil. Enough about me, let's talk about:
Well, three out of the four questions are about men. The other one is kinda bi-sexual. You didn't know questions could be bi-sexual did you? Well, you learn something new every day. Today we will be fielding questions from Mo "Mad Dog" Stoneskin, Blogging Mama Andrea, SSP from Smarty Pants Rants, and Jen from Sprite's Keeper. How many questions has Jen asked anyway? Not that I'm complaining, I'm just thinking we may start having to charge her for all the free therapy...
Mo said: Here's a question, and it is a boring one, so I would understand if you and Petra just rolled your eyes (collectively) and ignored it, but How do you manage blog time in between family time? Or put another way, how do you prevent blogging and commenting, etc. from infringing on quality family time? I ask because it can be difficult at times.
Not a boring question at all Moe! I mean, come on, not all questions can be about sex, drugs and rock 'n roll right? This is actually a really good question, and I hope that I am qualified to answer it. I think I do a fairly good job of balancing my blog and my family, but I am one of the lucky few that are able to work 100% from home, so I tend to do a lot of my blogging during the day in between work. It goes a little something like this:
-20 minutes of work
-get my daughter a drink
-30 minutes of blogging
-bring my daughter to the potty
-read my daughter a book
-15 minutes of work
-get out the play doh/paint/Moon Sand for my daughter
-45 minutes of blogging
-clean up said play doh/paint/Moon Sand
-get daughter a snack
-25 minutes of blogging
-30 minutes of playing with daughter
-30 minutes of work
-an hour of reading blogs and commenting
-lunch for me and my daughter...
...and so on and so forth. OK, I don't do THAT much blogging during the day, cause I do actually get some work done. But blogging and working during the day leaves me available at 4 p.m. to put the computer aside and devote all my attention to the kids, helping my 8-year-old with his homework and playing with my 2-year-old, as well as starting dinner and doing some stuff around the house. Then I won't get back on the computer (usually) until after the two kids are in bed at about 8 p.m. Most nights I try to limit my evening time on the computer to either none at all or under an hour so that hubby and I can sit and watch TV and he doesn't feel like I love my computer more than him. Cause I don't. Really. Don't look at me like that.
At the end of the day, my family comes first. When things get too busy, I don't blog. I get backed up on returning comments or I don't post for a couple of days. I feel bad, but my family is number 1, even though I do love you guys to pieces. It's just so hard getting all the love and affection that I need from you through the computer screen.
Blogging Mama Andrea said: You said you hadn't gotten any questions yet so I'll toss you one. In the middle of the night the baby cries. Do men truly not hear it or do they just pretend not to so they don't have to get up?
Thank you Andrea! I want the straight shit on this one, because I MARVEL at how my husband can sleep through a hysterically screaming baby in the middle of the night when I awake at the first little peep before the actual crying even begins. And all I have to say is, if this IS indeed a scam, it is one of the most brilliant of its kind because inevitably, all us moms have learned to give up after we have poked, prodded, shaken, and yelled at our husbands to go get the baby only to get a grunt and a roll, and gone and taken care of it ourselves. Well played. Well played indeed men. You are masters of deception and laziness. Is that something to be proud of? Not so sure. But it's an accomplishment, none the less. It's right up there with the comedy of Andrew Dice Clay and the development of Olestra.
SSP said: so, I get the "no sex with shoes" thing, but what is it ABOUT shoes, particularly the FM pumps that gets a man going? is it the fragility they impose on a woman and her ability to get away, the look of the leg, or is it, like it is for me, simply the shoe? As a woman, perhaps distantly related to Carrie Bradshaw from Sex in the City, the right pair of shoes can do wonders for my libido.
OK, I must fess up here that for a little while, I had NO CLUE what FM pumps were, but then I finally put the pieces together and realized that it stood for "Fuck Me" pumps, which must be the best kind of pumps there are. Unfortunately, I don't really own a pair. I think I have a pair of "Feel Me Up" heels, but I wouldn't go so far as to say that they inspire quite the reaction that FM pumps would. I do know what she is talking about though, and I am pretty sure that the high heels serve a dual purpose. First of all, they make us look taller and more slender and accentuate our legs, and they remind men that we are women and they are men. Just like skirts, makeup, aprons, and the like, the high heeled shoe (particularly of the FM variety) just screams "I am woman, hear me click, click, click, click." Unfortunately for me, I can't stand wearing high heels and avoid it as much as possible. So I have to replace the FM pumps with something else that reminds my man that I am a woman. Such as a pair of boobs. Those work pretty well too.
Jen said: Hm, I think I have a question! When I become ill, I just plug on about my day and try to silence the symptoms as best I can. When the husband gets sick, he announces every little twinge he feels. What is he looking for, soup or sympathy?
Amen. God forbid we need a "sick day" or some time to recover from an illness; nobody else can be bothered to take over our motherly duties so we can rest, but if Dad gets sick, he needs his rest and gets to sleep in the bedroom while we silence the children to keep quiet so he can recuperate. Then when he finally makes his appearance, he is a useless lump on the couch who needs to be waited on and given plenty of TLC and sympathy. Nobody waits on us. In fact, we continue to make the meals, bathe the children and clean the house when WE'RE sick. What's the deal? Is this just God's way of proving that men are babies and women are truly the stronger, far superior sex? It just may be. I don't know about you, but I would rather have the sick time. Is this negotiable? Is there a union?
Well, now's the time to go over and visit my hilarious friend Captain Dumbass over at Us and Them for the manly version of this post. I am sure he is going to be all "blah, blah, blah, men need their sleep, blah, blah, blah, man-colds are so much worse than woman-colds, etc. etc." but I am sure he will have some pretty good stuff to say as well. So go check him out. Unless you have already been there, and in that case, just come back next week for more. We'll be here.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
We love you Braja.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Welcome to my Random Tuesday Thoughts, sponsored by Keely over at the Un-Mom. Today I am going to share with you all the random things that comprised this past weekend, and hopefully not bore the shitake mushrooms out of you (like how I avoided a curse word there? Not that I don't enjoy swearing or don't do it frequently on this blog for that matter, just shaking things up a bit). Anywhore, this weekend, my stepson went to his mother's house and we had to drive him up to meet her. Well, that ended up not going so well because there was an accident and she ended up getting stuck for 45 minutes while they had the road blocked. Yes, you read that correctly, 45 MINUTES! What the hell people, don't you know that we have to get home and drink massive amounts of alcohol and then spend the next eight hours putting together our new entertainment center and flat screen TV? I think they could have gotten it all cleared up more expeditiously so we could have gotten home to start constructing a hell of a lot sooner. Some people just don't understand that the whole world revolves around me. The nerve. (Ryan pointed out to me my insensitivity with this situation, and I agree, so I would like to add here that I am pretty sure that everyone ended up being OK, and I really don't feel this way about tragic car accidents. I do care about the well-being of my fellow man. Thanks Ryan. I would never want to come off as a self-centered creep; everyone knows I am more of a lovable, self-centered sweetheart. Sometimes we just go a little too far in the name of humor.)
Speaking of the new TV and entertainment center--it's AWESOME . Not to rub your nose in it but it's 40 INCHES of shiny HD loveliness and it's all mounted (hehe, I said "mounted") up high so it's like you are at the movie theater. Plus, the entertainment center piece is SO much smaller than our other one, which was a monstrosity, so now we have a TON more room to play our Wii and wrestle with the children. The whole room is all opened up and it almost makes up for the room's lack of a window. And HD? Rocks. Not that I really like seeing all the little pores and acne scars on Doc Rivers' face (man, he needs some dermabrasion or SOMEthing!) but it's like the people in the TV are IN THE ROOM with you and you just want to reach out and touch them. I have to be careful not to let my imagination get away from me, since House is on tonight and I might try to grope Hugh Laurie through the television...erm, um, I mean, whatever, shut up.
So can I tell you it's been a VERY long time since I have been to two parties in one day? And my poor little (well, not so little anymore) almost 30-year-old body just doesn't hold up as well as it used to. On Saturday, we were invited to a first birthday party an hour away and then a 30th birthday party near our house and we decided to go for it and make it to both, with the almost 3-year-old. Let's just say that at 9:30 p.m., she was still going strong, chatting with everyone at the party and singing and dancing in the middle of the main room. Her father and I? Not so much. Hubby had started drinking at 1 o'clock at the other party and was looking a little worse for wear, while I could barely stand in my high heels anymore because of the 16 blisters on my feet, not to mention that I couldn't keep my eyes open. I think I came to the realization that we just aren't party animals anymore, and most likely never will be again. It's kinda sad, but on a Friday or Saturday night, most of the time I just want my glass of wine and a blankie on the couch. Forget all this shit about going places and wearing clothing without elastic or drawstring. I'll leave that to the 29-year-olds.
Finally, on Sunday, we drove over an hour (each way) to my son's mother's (yes, you read that correctly) new apartment to pick up Big Boy and bring her some swag. Yeah, we are awesome like that and help out the destitute, irresponsible biological mother of our son, even though she owes us thousands of dollars in child support, can't hold down a job and seems to have inconvenience and bad luck follow her wherever she goes. So far, we have given her a couple hundred bucks in cash, pots and pans, a microwave, a bureau for the kids' room, and the flat screen television that used to be in our bedroom before we got the free television from Verizon. Yes, we are just that full of awesomeness. Plus, we bought all FIVE children (three of whom were not ours--one of them her FRIEND'S KID) and her McDonald's on our way up to the tune of 30 bucks!!%!@ Since when do you need a personal loan to eat at McDonald's people? Obama needs to get on that shit. When you can't even afford to eat fast food, you're really in trouble. I should have had the foresight to make some damn peanut butter and fluff sandwiches and Kool Aid, but somehow I hadn't thought about the prospect of having to feed everyone in her household on top of everything else. Man, it's tough being a martyr.
Everyone have a very Happy St. Patrick's Day, enjoy your green beer and boiled dinner, and kiss some Irish people. Which reminds me that I have to go find my "Kiss me, I'm Irish" button since I have a quarter Irish and I figure that's good enough for some smooches, right? A girl's gotta get it where she can. Sadly, I won't be getting drunk because I am on a strict "no alcohol during the week" regimen for my diet, so have some beers for me, would ya? You're a pal.
And enjoy this eye and ear candy, from me to you:
EdenFantasys.com SEXIS Article Review - Sex and Pregnancy: A Short Guide to Getting Off When You’re Knocked Up
"I believe the public is ready to accept that a pregnant woman can be a sexual, desirable woman."
The quote above kicks off the article Sex and Pregnancy: A Short Guide to Getting it On When You're Knocked Up. As you can already see by the title, this isn't your momma's article on sex during pregnancy. The author gives you the straight story on what is appropriate (and not) in the sack while you have a bun in the oven. And rather than simply delve into the basic information that many other articles go into, it even goes into different positions, masturbation and problems with body image and sexual desire. As most mothers know, the pregnant body is a crazy and mysterious place, and sometimes it is not all that easy for us to understand the changes taking place. This article outlines all these changes and how to face them head-on without sacrificing you and your partner's love life. The piece also goes into sex after childbirth, which can be even harder for women to deal with. It provides insight on how to cope with the changes that have taken place due to pregnancy, as well as how to bring the romance back after possibly a long hiatus from intimacy.
— Nina Hartley
Go ahead and check out the article for yourself, and while you are there, browse around and read some of the other articles that range from sex culture and sex news. You might find that SEXIS is your new number one sex guide on the internet. And don't forget to join the forums and get in on the discussions.
Coming up soon will be another EdenFantasys.com product review and giveaway and keep a look out for my second article review next week!
Friday, March 13, 2009
"I love you so much that sometimes it feels like my heart is just going to burst!!"
She looked at me with a huge smile, took my face in her hands and said:
"I eat my boogers."
OK, so maybe not COMPLETELY perfect.
But pretty close.
Be sure to come back tomorrow when I have the first of four article reviews for EdenFantasys.com. (And no, they aren't porn, they are actually informative, interesting articles about sex, pregnancy and lifestyle.)
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
LIE TO YOUR CHILDREN.
Now, don't take this the wrong way, I am in no way saying that you should make up shit like the moon is made of Gorgonzola or that their heads will fall off if they watch too much television, and I am not even a big proponent of telling kids that their baby sister came from the stork or a cabbage patch or something like that (I mean, come on, my 2-year-old know that she grew in my belly and came out my vagina, what's wrong with that?). But there are certain things that can be manipulated and gently transformed to keep your children safe and healthy and to keep you from losing your mind. Most parents already subscribe to the fallacy of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the tooth fairy, but why not take it one step farther? "Santa Claus can't bring a Nintendo DS because the elves aren't trained in building small technological devices." "I'm sorry, but the Easter Bunny can't get his hands on a Playstation because they aren't allowed in electronic's stores due to their large feet and tendency to bump into things and break them." "The tooth fairy didn't leave you anything last night? Oh, well, that's because she's on vacation. She should be back tonight." It doesn't end with mythical creatures either. "Yes, honey, that is chicken, you love chicken!" as they take a big bite of pork chop. "Eating your green vegeatables will make you better at Wii." And so on and so forth. Then there is my favorite, "Dora (or Barney, Teletubbies, insert annoying television character here) is sleeping, so you can't watch that DVD right now; why don't you choose another one?" These lies are not to deliberately mislead our children in order to bring pain and suffering, but to make your home a better place to be--a sanctuary of healthy, happy children and non-insane, non-bankrupt mommies and daddies.
As previously stated, there are some lies that I don't believe are permissible in parenting, one of which is the whole "you're too young to understand human reproduction so we'll tell you some bullshit story about being dropped on the front porch in a basket or left in the garden" fiasco. Not that I am saying that you should describe the art of coitus to your 2-year-old, but there are more subtle ways of telling your child that they came from you and their dad, grew in your belly and came out your hoo-ha. The sooner they know the truth, the sooner you can start telling them the lie that if they have sex before marriage, their genitals will dry up and fall off (heh, just kidding, but it's tempting isn't it?). But there are other lies that I don't support. Such as that your child's face will get stuck in a funny face if they do it too much. Come on, what's more fun than making funny faces? And Jim Carrey makes quite a good living at it, so it's nothing to scoff at. Then, of course, there is the "you're going to go blind if you jerk it too much." Now, as much as I shiver to think of the day when I find crusty, balled up socks at the bottom of my kid's hamper, I would rather him be "shaking his own hand," if you will, then getting it on with some skanky girl from his biology class, so I say shake away. Actually, I personally intend on having a nice, long (terribly embarrassing) discussion with my stepson when he is old enough, telling him to enjoy masturbation as much as possible, but otherwise to KEEP IT ZIPPED. Because nothing puts a damper on your Friday nights like staying in with a crying infant. And at that point in our lives, his dad and I plan on having a life again and won't want to be taking care of the result of his rogue sperm. Right?
So take my advice, my friends, lie to your children. Save them from themselves and save your sanity. Think of it as an exercise in imagination and see how many different things you can come up with that will get your kids to eat right, exercise, get their sleep, and stop annoying you.
Trust me. I know what I am talking about.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
1. What is something mom always says to you?
Baby Girl: "No more Lucky Charms." ( I do say this at least once a day, because she eats all the marshmallows out and then wants more.)
Big Boy: "You gotta do this." (Yup, that sounds about right.)
2. What makes mom happy?
Baby Girl: "Me, I make you happy."
Big Boy: "When we are good." (amen and halelujah)
3. What makes mom sad?
Baby Girl: "When Maggie (our dog) barks too much."
Big Boy: "When we are bad." (again, can I get an amen?)
4. How does your mom make you laugh?
Baby Girl: "With a joke."
Big Boy: "You're funny." (yup, their mom is a clown.)
5. What was your mom like as a child?
Baby Girl: "You liked stories, like my books."
Big Boy: "You were very smart and always focused on your work." (yup, their mom was a nerd.)
6. How old is your mom?
Baby Girl: "3."
Big Boy: "29." (slam dunk on this one!)
7. How tall is your mom?
Baby Girl: "Bigger than me."
Big Boy: 6'2" (hahahaha, I could be in the WNBA; dude, I'd make so much money!)
8. What is her favorite thing to do?
Baby Girl: "Work." (yeah right, I think NOT).
Big Boy: "You have a lot of things you like to do. Um, play with me and Baby Girl." (that's better.)
9. What does your mom do when you're not around?
Baby Girl: "Laundry." (like I waste kid-free time doing laundry. More like get sloshed and play hide the pickle with daddy)
Big Boy: "Do stuff with Baby Girl or go to work." (yes, and above)
10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
Baby Girl: "Where's the thing?" (yeah, she didn't get this question)
Big Boy: "Athlete." (hahaha, I don't think so. I am NOT the picture of athleticism, but it's sweet of him to say.)
11. What is your mom really good at?
Baby Girl: "Taking care of me. And I take care of your sore back." (yes, I can't wait until her fingers are strong enough to actually do something when she rubs my back)
Big Boy: "Writing books." (at least SOMEBODY thinks so)
12. What is your mom not very good at?
Baby Girl: "You can't mommy do." (I hope this doesn't mean "being a mommy.")
Big Boy: "I can't think of anything--wait--you're not good at remembering things." (Dang, thought I had gotten out of that one scott free. Sadly, he's right)
13. What does your mom do for a job?
Baby Girl: "I'm your job. I burped."
Big Boy: "Which one? Only one? Massaging and making books.
14. What is your mom's favorite food?
Baby Girl: "Chicken." (good call)
Big Boy: "Salads." (another good call)
15. What makes you proud of your mom?
Baby Girl: "Me proud of you! I want my own cookies!" (starting to lose focus at this point...)
Big Boy: "Taking such good care of me." (awwwwww *tear)
16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
Baby Girl: "I want a cookie!!!!" (yup, I've lost her...)
Big Boy: "You would be the mom from The Replacements." (OK, I can buy that)
17. What do you and your mom do together?
Baby Girl: "We're happy." (most of the time, yes we are)
Big Boy: "We talk and we go to daddy's office."
18. How are you and your mom the same?
Baby Girl: "I'm you, the same as girl." (I think this means we are both girls, not sure.)
Big Boy: "We both like to exercise." ("like" is a strong word...)
19. How are you and your mom different?
Baby Girl: "I'm a baby and you are my mommy."
Big Boy: "I like video games and you don't." (well, that is until I get my Wii Fit!)
20. How do you know your mom loves you?
Baby Girl: "The dolphin guy!" (focus was completely unsalvageable at this point and she was commenting on something on TV)
Big Boy: "You tell me so."
21. What does your mom like most about your dad?
Baby Girl: "What do you like about me?" (hello? this is supposed to be about ME?)
Big Boy: "That he looks good and he's funny." (so true, so true. And, you know, his big...hands)
22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go?
Baby Girl: "You like to go for a walk in the woods." (Yeah, we did that once.)
Big Boy: "You're favorite place to go is the bookstore." (does this boy know his nerdy mom or what?)
I hope you enjoyed my children's answers as much as I did. Go try it with your kids; you never know what might pop out!! You may even learn something!
Monday, March 9, 2009
So let's see what Momma Dumbass wants to know: age old question that has never been addressed. Why do men clutch the tv remote to their chests, why do they carry them with them
around the house. and WHY for heaven sake do they insist on flicking through channels to 1/2
watch some other show-AND MISS GOING BACK TO THE SHOW U WERE
TRYING TO WATCH. a lot of hostility here!!!
Thank you Jerlyn! This is an issue we have every day here at the Wise Young Mommy house. My husband has come dangerously close to having his head cut off (or at least his sheets shorted) for surfing during the commercials and not going back to whatever we were watching, thus causing me to miss VITALLY IMPORTANT portions of the show. How rude. Why is it that he finds it necessary to flick around from a baseball game, to Ultimate Fighting, to The Girls Next Door, to Yankee Workshop or some other horrid DIY show that he never watches more than five minutes of so he would never be able to "do it himself" anyway? Not to MENTION the fact that I will be looking for the remote and find it stuffed in the couch cushions, on the kitchen counter, in the bathroom, or lying ALONGSIDE the other remote in the bedroom. What is so hard about putting the remote down in a visible area when leaving the livingroom? It's not like I would DARE to change the channel, knowing fully well that the television is obviously his domain because of all the high quality manly programs of which he has to see two minutes each. But then, when I finally put my foot down (for House, American Idol and Big Love ONLY), wouldn't you think it would be simple human decency to NOT change the channel during the commercials and get caught up watching some show on engineering bridges on National Geographic so that by the time you switch back, I have missed something important that prevents me from being able to keep track of what is going on? Simple human decency, folks. Is that so much to ask? I think not.
As you can see, Momma Dumbass, there is some hostility tied into this issue for me as well ;)
Alice said: Okay, here's one for you: why the h*ll can't I see Mr. Linky? I can't link up on any of the good Carnivals anymore!
All right, maybe that won't work for he blogs/she blogs. How about the long hair vs. short hair thing?
OK, I have no idea about the Mr. Linky thing, but the long hair vs. short hair discussion is a hot topic for me. I have had every length of hair, from a super short pixie cut when I decided I had had enough and literally told my neighbor to cut it all off, to long hair past my ass that I would sit on. And there is one conclusion that I have come to: I just don't feel as attractive and womanly with short hair. I always regret it, I always end up crying, and I always then wait rather impatiently for it to grow back. Luckily, I haven't cut it real short in a while, not since I did it right after my daughter was born (one tip: hormonal, sleep-deprived mom + drastic haircut = DISASTER), so I think I have learned my lesson. However, every time I cut it short I have at least a dozen and a half people tell me that short hair looks SO good on me, and that I have "the face for it," whatever that means. And those same people, when I tell them that I don't feel as attractive or womanly, tell me that it doesn't matter whether my hair is short or long, that it still looks attractive and sexy and all those things that I have always yearned to be and never felt I was. Obviously, my husband tells me that he would love my hair at any length, and that he has liked it short, but I just know that secretly he likes it better long. I am sure that it is a personal preference and that not every man feels the same about it, BUT I have this feeling in my gut that most men prefer long hair. Maybe it's because of all the images I have burnt on my brain of long-haired, big tittied women who are plastered all over men's mags and billboards across the country. That could be it.
Moonspun said: ANYway...question for HBSB: What's you belief on 'spousal privelege?' If your BFF or someone tells you a secret and says "don't tell anyone" do you think they will know you are going to tell your better half? Because that what your better half is for? To hold secrets like that because you trust them and need to bounce the secret off someone you know will be true to you. Thoughts?
Oh, this is a tough one. I have to admit that I tell my husband almost EVERYTHING I do and say with almost EVERYONE I interact with. Most topics of convo with anyone are fair game for me to bring to my husband, because he is truly my best friend and sounding board, and I don't like to keep anything from him. That being said, if someone close to me told me something having NOTHING TO DO WHATSOEVER with my husband or our relationship and they promised me not to tell ANYONE because it was that sensitive or embarrassing, I would keep that promise. I also realize that while talking to any of my friends that anything I say will probably be relayed to their significant others, thus I don't say anything I wouldn't want passed along, unless I preface it with a "please don't tell anyone, EVEN your husband." Because I know how close and sacred the bond between man and wife is, and that few things are kept out of that circle. But friendship is sacred too, and if there is something my friend doesn't want people to know, I will guard it with my life. Cause I would want them to do the same for me.
Giggle Pixie said: Why can't I get my husband to understand that walking into a room and saying "Wanna go have sex?" doesn't exactly make my motor purr?
Especially when, if I take him up on the offer, he throws off all his clothes, jumps into bed, and then just lays there waiting for me to "make something happen"?
I am very sorry to say that I can't relate to this one, because I am usually the one that says "hey, wanna go have sex?" and then proceeds to go get naked and lay in the bed and wait for him. I'm not really sure why, I guess when I get in the mood, I just want to get on task and get going. No need to waste time, right? But believe me, once I am in the buff and awaiting the fun to begin, I fully intend on getting "warmed up" if you will, before anything is going anywhere. Men seem to think sometimes that we are just like them and can just "turn it on" at any moment and be ready for penetration. Haven't they learned by now that when that tactic is used, things are only painful and awkward? My biggest complaint is when I wake up in the middle of the night to hubby on top of me and, let's just say at 2:30 in the morning when I have been sleeping for four hours, I am not exactly "prepared." But I have to admit that my hubby is usually VERY good at getting me fully ready for the "big show." Sometimes I think men just get a tad ahead of themselves. Again, due to the blood being taken away from the brain to the genitalia. It's scientific.
There you have it. Those are my thoughts, now head on over to the Captain's place and see what he had to say. I know I am anxiously awaiting his answers this week.
You may have noticed the new header that I made (shut up, I am no graphic designer) on this week's post, and there is also a nice little button to the right just waiting to be snatched up by YOU and put in your sidebar on your blog. Please, help spread the word about He Blogs, She Blogs, get all your friends in on the fun and display that little sucker on your site. It would be MUCH appreciated and I will give you tons of virtual hugs and kisses. XOXOXOXOXOXOXO See? I told you.
And finally, Captain Dumbass and I would like to announce that we will be changing the He Blogs, She Blogs schedule a bit so starting next week we will be posting it on THURSDAYS instead of Mondays. Sorry if we mess up your week or confuse you. Feel free to lodge a complaint. Simply go to Captain Dumbass' blog and leave a disgruntled comment.
I hope everyone has an incredible week and keep coming back for more He Blogs, She Blogs shenanigans!!
Friday, March 6, 2009
A bunch of bloggers have done this one, but I kept getting directed to Robin over at Cinnamon and Honey for the directions, so I am going to give her credit for this one. Here are the directions, according to her:
1. Go to Wikipedia. Hit "random." The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.
2. Go to Random Quotations. The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
3. Go to Flickr and click on "explore the last seven days." The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
4. Use Photoshop or a similar program to put it all together.
Pretty ironic cause I suck at anything math-related and I have no idea what a "q-difference polynomial is," even after reading the article in Wikipedia. Anyone who does know, however, leave me a comment with the answer and you will win the "Nerd of the Year Award."
So that's about it for today. Next week I am going to try to get on the ball and choose my next EdenFantasys.com review and giveaway, so look for the announcement and don't open my blog at work, just in case. I have it narrowed down to some sexy lingerie and a new piece of equipment that my husband is dying to get his grubby little hands on. No matter what, it's going to be interesting, so you won't want to miss it. And don't forget we have He Blogs, She Blogs with Captain Dumbass on Monday!
I will leave you, my cherished friends, with this quote:
"Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings."Happy Friday everyone!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
This adventure has consisted of tears, laughter, learning, growth, anger, frustration, blood, sweat, and most importantly love. It started unconventionally, as a stand-in mom for a 1-year-old boy with a loving, albeit misguided young father and a confused, immature mother. At the ripe age of 21, I was mature, but still only a fraction of the woman I would become, and needed to be, to be a mother. But motherhood enrolled me in a whirlwind crash course, whether I was ready for it or not.
The little boy won my heart, and the hearts of my family, until one day he was indistinguishable from any one of us. But there was pain. And hurt feelings. History that wasn't easily forgotten. And an extraordinary amount of frustration as we fought with his mother to work out what was best for him. Two households wanted him, one for the right reasons and one wrong. One household had security, love and support, but wasn't the household that the court favored, even when it became clear that the other household was an inferno of negativity and inconsistency.
When his mother got angry, she refused to send him for his weekends with us. When she got overwhelmed with the everyday challenges of motherhood, she called upon me to come rescue her and take him away. When the pressure became just too much, she would suggest that we take him for good, but as soon as she reached an upswing in her mood, she offer was swept off the table and tucked away until the next time she couldn't take it any longer. This emotional extortion created tension and a fear of never knowing what she was going to do next. There was no letting our guard down, no relaxing. We knew that if months went by without an incident, it was only a matter of time before that other shoe would drop.
Until one day, when the little boy spoke up. At 4 years old, he knew what he wanted and where he wanted to be. Amazed that such a young soul could be so aware of his surroundings and what was good for him, we kept a close eye on him and listened intently to everything he had to say. He told everyone that would listen that he didn't want to go with her, that he was scared of his stepfather and that he wanted to live with his father and I. The day he told his own mother that he didn't want to live with her, she called and said she gave up. And that was the beginning of the next adventure.
We got custody of him that spring, with her surrendering her guardianship and agreeing to visitation every other weekend. At this time, I was working full time and going to school at night, as was my husband. With help and support from our family, we got through this "adventure," but it wasn't an easy path. Sometimes I wondered what I had gotten myself into. Could I do this? Could I really be the mother that this little boy wanted and needed so badly? I doubted myself a lot during that time, but there was something inside of me that propelled me through each day and hurtling over each obstacle. I know now what it was. Maternal instinct at its finest.
Things got easier, but never uninteresting. Back to court for various issues and drama in his mother's life kept the adventure plodding along, many times leaving us feeling spent and empty. We got married and we moved into my in-laws' house to save for a home of our own. It was there that we found out that I had infertility issues and we started treatment so that by the time we moved out, we would hopefully be able to get pregnant. But the universe had something else in mind. Another adventure unfolded, taking us quite by surprise.
Although earlier than we had expected, we were thrilled, and I was elated because I had yearned for a child of my own and was so scared of not being able to carry my own little bean. God blessed us with our daughter on April 26, 2006, and our family was complete.
Luckily, this little blessing fit right into our family as if there had always been a space just waiting for her to fill it. The little boy loved his sister, and she worshiped her big brother from the first day she laid her tiny little eyes on him. This is where the fun part of the adventure officially began. Seeing my two kids, one grown inside of me, the other who chose me, getting to know one another and falling in love. It made me fall in love with each of them, one for the first time and the other all over again. And although things will never be perfect with the boy's mother, and sometimes my heart breaks a little when he tells me he "wishes he had come out of my belly" like his sister, I know that I was born for this adventure.
The adventure continues every day. And sometimes I wonder why I got myself into this insanity. Sometimes there is no sleep. There is fighting, and yelling, and crying, and whining. But there is also the most infinite love, and the most savage bliss. In this adventure called motherhood, I have also found out who I am, and have learned more about life and love than could ever be learned from books or poetry. It's exciting, and you never know what is going to happen next.
Isn't that what the best adventures are all about?
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Hubby is away half this week, so Momma is home alone with the kids and all lonely and stuff, but the good news is that it gives me an excuse to drink wine and watch chick flicks all by myself. It also leaves me all alone with my twisted mind so I have some random thoughts for you today.
Last night I read a book (not adapted from a Disney movie or Nickelodeon show) for myself and watched Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. Let's just say that I wasn't overly impressed with the movie, but Michael Cera is adorable and as Cat tweeted last night "I want to put that little nerd in my pocket." Well said, Cat. I have loved him since Juno, one of my all-time favorite flicks. I heart Diablo Cody, and Juno was a masterpiece, in my opinion. SUCH a quotable movie, and Michael Cera's character made me want to cover him in chocolate and eat him.
We got about 8 inches of snow here in my neck of the woods yesterday. It makes me want to wrap myself in a blanket with a bottle of wine and hibernate until spring. Nuff said.
My daughter has been trying to sing every song that comes on the radio now and even knows the words to a lot of the songs. But remember when she criticized my singing? Well, she shouldn't be talkin' smack. Let's just say her tuneless melodies leave something to be desired. However, for what she lacks in singing ability, she makes up for in outrageous cuteness, so it's all good. Sometimes she is so cute, it hurts.
So Drew over at EdenFantasys.com wants me to be a regular reviewer for their products, which is totally awesome, but it is stressing me out trying to decide what kind of products are "appropriate" for my blog and which are not. I am totally OK with flying my freak flag for all to see, but I certainly don't want to scare off my readers with some, let's just say, less socially acceptable sex toys popping up in my blog. They do have lingerie, books, videos, and other such stuff. So YOU tell me. What do you want me to review and give away? More vibrators? Sexy outfits? Erotic Fiction? Come on, throw a sista a bone, would ya? (Pun fully intended.)
Would somebody please tell me what that Bachelor dude did that everybody is so pissed about? I suppose I could look it up on the internet, but I am too lazy.
This Random Tuesday Thoughts totally sucks, so feel free to tell me so. I apologize, but I am so off my game with hubster being away and I am also dealing with Baby Girl's possible allergies/asthma so my brain is a bit fried. I give up. I'll try to give you something better later this week, but for now, I will leave you with this:
If you would like to participate in the random fun, head on over to Keely's blog, snatch up the badge and sign Mr. Linkalicious. Yee-ha.
Monday, March 2, 2009
So today I let my awesome partner put on the big boy pants and choose the questions for the first time. We have my very own lesbian internet lover, Cat from Zipbag of Bones querying, along with Tony from, surprisingly, Life with Tony, Lawyer Mom from A Lawyer Mom's Musings, and Matt from DC Urban Dad posing hard hitting questions for us to tackle. Here goes nothin'...
Cat said: Question for the new duo: "Metrosexuals" - awesome new breed of hetero, or same old breed of in denial?
I love me my metrosexuals. I have actually been trying to slowly and strategically convert my man into one since I first met him, sneakily and subversively so he won't notice. It worked until I bought him a scarf for Christmas two years ago. That was when he figured out what was going on and put his foot down (his foot clad in Kenneth Cole designer sneakers, I may add). But let's be clear, there is a very big difference between a "true" metrosexual, such as David Beckham or Ryan Seacrest and a "bi-sexual" in sheep's clothing who swears that he's straight but just loves Liza Manelli and Cosmopolitans. I think the real metrosexual is the rugged, athletic man who is not afraid to buy incredible shoes to go with an outfit or an awesome hat. He uses the right hair products to make his messy 'do look "just right" and is not afraid to wear jeans that actually fit and pair them with the right accessories. He may even rock a man-purse, but that particular breed of metro is hard to find. He has to be sufficiently testosterone fueled and comfortable with his male sexuality to pull that off. What, I ask you, is wrong with a man's man that likes to look and smell good? I say nothing at all. However, if you notice him checking out Hugh Dancy's ass at the premiere of "Confessions of a Shopaholic" that his "stylist" got him the tickets for, then you may be dealing with a much different breed of man. That's all I'm sayin.'
Tony said: This is going to be good - there are a few things I've wondered about, such as why do women try on 20 different things, asking us how they look in each one and then end up wearing the first thing they tried on? Why do women ask us which shoe matches their outfit better - dude, I don't even care if they wear shoes or not much less if they match their outfit.
I know the answer to this question, and I am going to rock your world and change your life forever. Women DO NOT care what you think of their outfit, or their shoes, for that matter. They know what they like and they are going to choose the outfit that they thinks makes them look the thinnest and most savage, while making their ass look good. What said women want from these little "fashion shows" with their men is for you to tell them that EVERYTHING looks great because they look great in EVERYTHING. Then the woman feels good about herself, chooses the outfit that is most flattering and you get laid. So play along, enjoy your blow job and the world is a happy place, m'kay?
A Lawyer Mom's Musings said: Hmm. I've got a few questions. Like, how come men are born knowing how to clean fish and can even eat those same fish afterward? How come men have no problem looking at a naked uncooked turkey and removing the giblets, while women (if they're like me) run from the kitchen heaving at the sight?
This is one of those questions that can be answered by taking a look at history. Well, pre-history actually. We are talking WAY BACK to the beginning of time when Mr. and Mrs. Neanderthal shared a two-bedroom cave in pre-historic times with their two, smelly neanderthal children. This is about men's love of the HUNT and them showing off their skills with a knife, because back then, that was HOT. There was nothing more attractive to Mrs. Neanderthal than seeing her man come home with a great big boar thrown over his shoulder and then slaughtering it right then and there for them to eat. Cause, you know, food wasn't always around, so Mr. Neanderthal's ability to hunt and fish and then clean and cut up said animals was his greatest attribute. So, you know, they didn't DIE. Plus, there were no metrosexuals, so women based their attraction to their mates on their mad slaying and fileting skillz.
Now that we have food readily available though, it's just not as hot as it used to be...go figure.
DC Urban Dad said: How about shoes? Or okay, sex.
Most women love shoes. Some women love shoes a little bit too much. I love shoes, however, I do not spend a lot of money on them because I think that is a (gasp!) waste of money. I would much rather buy a killer pair of jeans or a new blouse than a pair of Jimmy Choos (not that I could EVER afford a pair of Jimmy Choos anyway). But I know there are some women a la Carrie Bradshaw who would choose to buy a pair of designer shoes over food for the week. Now, most men (the non-metrosexual variety) own a pair of dress shoes, a pair of sneakers and a pair of boots and are all set. But, for women (even me), there needs to be more available for different kinds of outfits, events and/or weather scenarios. So yes, men and women view this topic a little differently. The good thing about this is that men's lack of shoes leads to there being a lot more room in the closet for the woman's shoes. So this is one of those facts of life that helps maintain the delicate balance and homeostasis of the sexes.
Now as for sex...I say "YES PLEASE." Does that answer your question?
I hope I answered your questions sufficiently. Now, if you haven't already, head over to Captain Dumbass' crib and see what he has to say about these matters. Contrast, compare, laugh, and ponder, cause that's what this is all about! Remember to leave us a comment if you have a question and check back next week to see if it makes the list.
Thanks for joining us and peace out homies!